


the time newt found (and kept) the alt-dimension version of his boyfriend

by OnyxSphynx



Series: a biologist, a physicist, and his clone walk into a bar... [2]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies), Torchwood
Genre: Crack, M/M, allusions to 23rd century Dahlists, allusions to sex, its jack what’d you expect, newt isn’t sorry that Owen can’t go back and it shows, so much crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 13:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17725868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphynx/pseuds/OnyxSphynx
Summary: Owen shrugs. “In my defence, Teaboy, it’s actually not my fault this time,” he points out, “I’m not the one who opened a trans-dimensional whatchamacallit—”“—portal,” Newt interrupts, looking slightly pained, clutching tightly to a stained coffee mug that saysIt must be chemistry. He’s wearing neon pink socks, a pair of shorts with the periodic table on them, and not much else.





	the time newt found (and kept) the alt-dimension version of his boyfriend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeeBeader](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeeBeader/gifts).



> you asked and I delivered

“You did  _ what? _ ” Ianto questions,glaring at him, Jack by his side. The grainy quality of the screen makes it even funnier as the sound ends before his mouth stops moving. Newt’s somehow rigged up a FaceTime call between dimensions, and Owen’s a bit afraid to ask how. 

Owen shrugs. “In my defence, Teaboy, it’s actually  _ not  _ my fault this time,” he points out, “I’m not the one who opened a trans-dimensional whatchamacallit—”

“— _ portal _ ,” Newt interrupts, looking slightly pained, clutching tightly to a stained coffee mug that says  _ It must be chemistry _ . He’s wearing neon pink socks, a pair of shorts with the periodic table on them, and not much else.

Owen waves his hand, studiously ignoring the sight. “Whatever. The point is, it’s not my fault.” It really  _ isn’t _ , honestly—he’s just sort of lost any sense of fear he may have had. Occupational hazard and all.

“ _ You’re  _ the one who poked it,” Ianto accuses, batting at Jack’s hand as he tries and subsequently fails to steal one of Ianto’s biscuits, ignoring the Captain’s pout. “So yeah, it sort of  _ is  _ your fault.”

With a huff, Owen opens his mouth to protest that it isn’t his fault—he wan’t awake fully since he hadn’t had his first cuppa and  _ who’s fault is that?  _ and the light looked just like a string of fairy lights—when Jack cuts him off.

“The important thing here is if you can get  _ back _ ,” he says, trying for stern and landing, instead, squarely on kicked-puppy, somehow. It’s kind of amusing. Owen suspects that Jack is generally unaware of how he actually comes off to people.

Newt grimaces and makes a hadwavy gesture, a bit of coffee sloshing over the edges at the motion. “...about that. See, I ran the data—”

“— _ I  _ ran the data—” Hermann cuts in from where his head’s resting in Owen’s lap. Owen gives him a consoling look and pets his hair in an attempt to pacify him. Newt continues on.

“—and I don’t think it’s gonna work. I mean, like, it  _ could,  _ but it also could reopen the Breach, and we just got done fighting a  _ war  _ with the Kaiju, so,” he shrugs. “Sorry, but he’s stuck with us, at least for the moment.” The look on his face is wholly at odds with his faux-apologetic tone.

Ianto makes a noise that sounds like a squeaky-toy being mangled and presses his fingers to his temples, looking like he’s being held captive by 23 rd century Dahlists and informed that coffee goes extinct in twenty years. Jack pats his shoulder consolingly and addresses Owen.

“Well, then, I guess it’s a good thing that the only thing we’ll be dealing for at least a decade is Weevils and the odd bit of alien tech.” His eyes lock with Owen’s, mischievous. “You look well. Is the sex good?”

Hermann sputters, hacking as he chokes on his own spit, and Newt looks like someone’s just told him that his cat lays eggs, while Ianto’s obviously fending off an impending headache.

Owen grins. “Very.”


End file.
